


Thunderbirds Are Go - ‘Flu Fortress’

by countessofsnark



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: Based on a prompt by @wonderavianScott gets a bad case of the flu, and Alan is the only one around to care for him.





	Thunderbirds Are Go - ‘Flu Fortress’

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by @wonderavian
> 
> _Scott gets a bad case of the flu, and Alan is the only one around to care for him._

Scott couldn’t remember the last time he’d been struck down by flu. He had figured that his immune system, the annual vaccine, and his healthy food routine would’ve eliminated that nasty affliction by now. He was sorely mistaken, as it turns out that rescuing someone who’s not only trapped under debris but also battling flu is asking for trouble – especially when said person ends up sneezing all over your pristine suit and you make the terrible mistake of wiping off the ickiness with your gloves, and _then_ touch your own face with said gloves. _Idiot._

But here he is, a walking, sniffling excuse for a human being. And as it happens, all alone on the island with no one to look after him. No one, apart from Alan. His precious baby brother. That long-limbed and shiny-eyed noodle child, who should be protected at all costs. 

Scott feels another sneeze coming up. It echoes through the empty lounge. He grabs a handful of tissues and produces a sound that would make an elephant perk up its big floppy ears.

‘You okay, Scott?’ Alan shouts from the hallway that connect the residential part of the house to the public spaces.

‘N-no, I’m most definitely not,’ Scott says, a shiver of fever running up and down his spine.

‘I have to get more rest,’ he mutters to himself, rubbing his arms in a futile effort to get warm.

Suddenly, Alan is standing beside him, holding a tray filed with tea, biscuits, and tangerines – Scott’s favourite fruit.

‘You rang, m’lord?’ he says in that ever-cheerful voice.

‘Alan, you scared the living shit out of me,’ Scott gasps. His head is pounding relentlessly.

‘Bro, you don’t look too good,’ Alan squints, now becoming aware of the lamentable state the elder Tracy is in.

‘T-tell me about it,’ Scott coughs.

Alan puts down the tray and proceeds to help Scott into a sitting position.

‘How about you and I go to your room and I’ll tuck you in?’

Scott opens his mouth to object to that idea, but decides to swallow back his opinions so as not to upset his youngest brother’s feelings. 

_The kid only wants to help, Scotty._

‘There, there,’ Alan coos, lifting the duvet up to Scott’s chin. He pats his brother’s warm forehead and lays a wet, cool towel on it. 

Scott can already feel his body relaxing while Alan disappears to retrieve the tray. He closes his eyes and surrenders to his body’s need for sleep. By the time Alan re-enters the room, Scott is fast asleep. 

Alan puts his tray of goodies on the beside table. He flicks off the cat-shaped night light that Scott kept throughout the years and softly closes the bedroom door.


End file.
